


Love'd I Not Honor

by rhoswenmahariel (salutationtothestars)



Series: Left Hand of the Divine [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Goodbyes, Lowercase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salutationtothestars/pseuds/rhoswenmahariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how much it pains Cassandra, when it finally comes down to choosing - it isn't really a difficult choice to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love'd I Not Honor

in the morning, earlier than even she is used to being up, cassandra pads quietly around the room and gathers up what she left behind the night before. nearly everything she owns has already been dealt with, packed in sacks easily slung over a horse, or given to those who will take care of them. she tries not to think about her books, divvied up between her friends – all except one. in any case, all that’s left of her in this particular place are items of clothing. her smallclothes and trousers are laid out on a chair, and her boots wait by the door, so when she finds yesterday’s shirt underneath the desk, she believes she has everything.

a deep, heavy sigh coming from the bed does not surprise her. she felt his eyes tracking her even before she started moving, recognized the weight of his gaze as she sat on the side of the mattress for much longer than she should have done. afraid of what he might say if she gives him her full attention, she keeps her back to him and pulls the shirt over her head. they said their goodbyes the night before. repeating them now will only weaken her resolve.

“when exactly are you leaving?” varric asks, his voice rasping with disuse. her smallclothes are next, then her trousers, her shirt half-tucked inside.

“as soon as possible,” cassandra says. “there are still things to do, however, and i have to speak with the inquisitor, so perhaps not for a few hours.”

he hums, falling silent as she yanks on her boots. turning her head to better pin up her loose hair, long since shaken loose of its braid but easily tucked out of the way, she catches sight of him without truly meaning to – and she regrets it instantly. part of his face is covered, still pressed up against the pillow, but the part she can see is deceptively blank. one hand grips at the sheets, clutching as though it gives him an anchor. her heart threatens to beat out of her chest. it’s time to go.

she promised herself she would not hesitate, would not give herself a chance to second-guess the necessity of this. that promise breaks too easily, and so she stands at the door, clinging to the handle as he likely still has purchase on his sheets. they are not storybook characters. the chasm that is beginning to yaw between them cannot be crossed with grand gestures or tearful farewells, and they both know that.

but it does not stop her from wanting.

behind her, varric sighs again. his voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper, when he says, “i wish they’d picked someone else to sit on that stupid chair.”

it isn’t meant for a response. she doesn’t give one.

**Author's Note:**

> "Yet this inconstancy is such  
> As you too shall adore;  
> I could not love thee (Dear) so much,  
> Lov’d I not Honor more."
> 
> -To Lucasta, Going to the Wars  
> Richard Lovelace


End file.
